


Reluctant Birthday Boy

by Teneniel



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Birthday, Cake, Canon Compliant, Gen, birthday fic, canonverse, grumpy birthday boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 16:32:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12939246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teneniel/pseuds/Teneniel
Summary: Cor tries his hardest to be unimpressed with his friends' makeshift birthday party.





	Reluctant Birthday Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to @sidecharacterho on Twitter for the prompt! Hope you enjoy a little fluff for our grumpy bae.

Cor jumped out of the bed of the old truck and gave it two firm pats to signal the driver he was safely on the ground. As it rumbled away, he stretched then twisted before dusting off his pants and heading up the rugged walkway that led to the lighthouse.

It was barely mid afternoon but already the light slanted heavily and had a golden hue. The days were getting shorter, and the boat still wasn’t seaworthy. Today’s takedown of a fleet of imperial dropships did little to improve his anxious mood, so it was with a racing mind and stiff neck that he walked through the door of the keeper’s cottage where he lived with several other Insomnian expats.

All of whom were gathered around the cramped table and blurting out “Surprise!” as he entered.

He could feel his face relax in momentary shock, but he schooled it back to his signature frown quickly. “What’s all this?”

“Happy Birthday Cor!” Talcott said excitedly.

“We baked you a cake!” Iris gestured with both arms to a large cake with white icing and slivered almonds along the edges.

“My birthday? Who could have told you that, I wonder?” He asked, casting an accusatory eye at Monica.

She was wholly unfazed.

Dustin merely smiled and gestured at an empty chair. “Birthday boy gets the first slice.”

Cor grunted, but moved to sit down.

“We also managed to find some glasses!” Iris said, and Monica produced the ridiculous candle-ridden paper monstrosities from her jacket pocket.

“No.” He said firmly, shaking his head.

“It’s tradition!” Talcott argued. “C’mon Cor, you gotta wear the glasses!”

“No.” He said flatly. “No glasses.”

Dustin lit the solitary candle atop the cake, and Monica came around the table and unfolded the birthday glasses. “I’m afraid you have no choice,” she said, placing them on Cor’s face as he gave her a withering look, “Sir,” she finished with a sweet smile. When she was satisfied that Cor wasn’t going to rip them off in a rage, she moved back around the table and slipped her arm around Dustin’s waist and cleared her throat.

As if on cue, they all began to sing “Happy Birthday,” and Cor did his best to keep his face flat and unimpressed, but he could feel the edges of his mouth twitch up. When they were done singing, Talcott shouted, “Make a wish!” and Cor sighed, paused, thought about what he wanted most, then blew out the candle.

Everyone clapped and Iris cut a generous wedge of cake for him. “It’s Caem Carrot cake!” She said excitedly. “I hope it turned out. The batter sure tasted good but I’m not sure I got the baking time right.”

Cor accepted the plate. “We could have sold these carrots, you know,” he said, giving her a mild look.

Iris rolled her eyes. “Relax, Marshall. It only took one. Those suckers are huge. Besides,” she said with a grin, “You’re worth it!”

Cor huffed a laugh and shook his head, then shoveled a large bite into his mouth. He grunted. “It’s good,” he said around the mouthful. It  _was_  good. There were nuts and raisins and a comforting blend of spices, with a creamy not-too-sweet icing. It was a hell of a lot better than Anak jerky and ration bars.

The rest of the party chatted happily as they ate their slices of cake, and Cor started feeling a little claustrophobic. Whether it was too many people in a small space, or too many feelings about the people he was surrounded by, he wasn’t sure. So, he excused himself on the pretense of needing to check on Cid’s progress with the boat and headed to the basement of the lighthouse.

Late that night, after a lively pasta dinner and splitting a rare case of beer (Cid’s contribution), Cor lay awake on his small bed in the room he shared with Cid and Talcott. When their breathing became heavy and even, Cor crept across the squeaky floor, slipped out the bedroom door, and tiptoed down the stairs. He silently opened the icebox and rummaged around until he found the remnants of the cake. There was about a slice and a half left by the looks of it. Checking over each shoulder, he quietly slipped the cake out of the icebox and brought it to the table. He found a clean fork in the drying rack and sat down in front of the cake.

“Happy birthday to me,” he said, and dug in. 


End file.
